“That’s what I keep telling myself.”

“Someday we’ll believe it?”

Liam laughed. “He’ll expect us to take care of this Shifter problem without asking him for advice.”

“That bites.” Sean savored the dark taste of another sip of beer. “Why do we get stuck doing the hard work?”

“Because Dad raised us well, and now it’s up to us not to shame him.”

“Sure, no pressure.” Sean took another drink, sank back into the swing. “Callum and his friends, they at least haven’t figured out how to override the Collars. How’s that going, then?”

Liam glanced off into the dark, nostrils widening as he searched the wind for scent. “Slowly,” he said in a low voice. “I’m not letting anyone else be hurt because of it.”

Sean leaned forward, and very quietly told Liam about Andrea’s Collar. A spark danced in Liam’s eyes, and he traced the lip of his beer bottle. “Does she know why?” Liam asked.

“She says not. I believe her. But she pulled magic from my Fae sword to heal Ely, and she eased the pain of my Collar. Something about her healing touch, maybe, that makes her Collar not hurt her.”

“I wonder if any other half-Fae Shifters have the same immunity.”

Sean shrugged. “If they do, I’m not thinking they plan to tell anyone.”

“I wouldn’t.” Liam gazed off into the night again, winter cold returning with bite. “Would she help us, do you think?”

“She might. If we asked her nice.”

Liam’s eyes crinkled in the corners. “Is that your other sword talking? Does she draw magic from that one too?”

“You’re a funny man, Liam Morrissey. I think she will help us, in time. As long as you don’t piss her off. She’s kept the secret of her own Collar forever; I think she’d be amenable to keeping ours.”

“Let me think on it, talk to Dad.”

“In the meantime, what about Callum?” Sean asked. “His clan might be sitting on him, but who knows how many of them agree with him?”

“Aye, I’ve got my eye on him and his friends.” He scowled. “The idiots. Their impatience will only bring human wrath down on Shifters, set us back another twenty years.”

Sean couldn’t help looking at Glory’s house again, at Andrea’s bedroom window. “Dad could help. All he has to do is look at them, and they’ll be properly terrified.”

“Don’t I know it.”

The brothers shared a grin. They both would have been dead long ago without Dylan, that was certain. Sean thought back to long winters on the lonely coast of Ireland, when food and fuel ran short, and they’d curl together in their cat forms to warm each other—three brothers with their father. Dylan would disappear and return with food; not kills or stolen potatoes, but fresh vegetables and pheasant and fish prepared for rich men’s tables. He wouldn’t say how he’d obtained them, and Liam, Sean, and Kenny had decided it was wiser not to ask.

“I guess Dad’s decided it’s time to stop saving our asses,” Sean said.

“It’s high time we started saving his.”

“You have the right of it.” Sean rose and set his beer bottle on the table. “I’ll be off home, then.”

Liam grinned. “You might want to try actually sleeping, tonight.”

“It’s overrated, sleep. Far more fun things to do in bed.”

The twinkle in Liam’s eyes told Sean that he agreed. Liam rose and the brothers shared a tight hug. Then Sean walked next door, his frenzy mounting with every step.

Sleeping with Sean was supposed to keep away the nightmares. Andrea snuggled down against Sean’s warm body as they both drifted off that night, limbs heavy with afterglow, and found herself instantly tangled in the white threads of her dreams.

This time, Andrea couldn’t move, couldn’t make a sound. She was bound in a cocoon, breathless, dying.

Fight it, Andrea.

The voice of the Fae cut through her panic. She punched her fists into the white threads and started to break them. When she’d ripped enough away to see through the cocoon, she found herself not safe in bed with Sean, but in a gray misty place that was neither one world or the other.

Wake yourself, but quietly, and come to me. I need to speak with you, daughter.

The white threads started to tangle her again. Oh, right, how was she supposed to fight them quietly?

She heard whispering music, familiar now, like dozens of voices calling to her. The Sword of the Guardian, which she knew gleamed like flame where Sean had left it on the dresser. Andrea envisioned using it to slice through the white threads, and instantly, the cocoon cringed away and vanished.

Ah, wise choice.

Andrea opened her eyes to silence. Sean was sound asleep beside her, his head pillowed on one muscular arm. Her heart caught as she looked down at him, a damn sexy man curled up in bed with her. Even with his blue eyes closed, his face relaxed in sleep, he was strong, and the memory of his weight on top of her body made Andrea warm. He was awakening deep emotions inside her, emotions that threatened to tear her apart.

Andrea slid silently out of bed, her movements so fluid that Sean never stirred. She retrieved her clothing and carried it downstairs to dress in the living room. The house was pitch-black, but Andrea had never had trouble seeing in the dark.

The Fae waited for her in the clearing, in the precise spot he’d stood two nights ago. He was tall, his face thinner and longer than a human’s or Shifter’s, and his white braid fell down his back, thick like silk rope. The silver mail he wore shimmered in light that didn’t come from this world. The moon over Austin was hidden by a thick layer of clouds. In Faerie, the moon shone brilliant and white.

“Daughter.” The Fae looked at her empty hands and frowned. “You did not bring it.”

“No, I didn’t bring it,” Andrea said. “If you’re going to insist on invading my dreams, let’s start with a few questions, all right?” She counted off on her fingers. “Who are you? What’s your name? Why do you insist on calling yourself my father? And why do you want the sword? I want your answers, in that order. You can start right now.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The man could do a good sneer; Andrea gave him that. The curl to his lip told Andrea he wasn’t used to being questioned, especially not by what he considered lesser beings. Well, too damn bad.